


Also, a hug would be nice

by fw_feathers (callmeren)



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Gen, Gender-neutral Reader, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Reader-Insert, Self-Indulgent, dante is a considerate flirt, no beta we die like men, read this for bad days, self-care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 23:03:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21261089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmeren/pseuds/fw_feathers
Summary: What you think I mean: “I need a hug.”What I truly mean: “I need someone to platonically lie across me with their full weight, crushing my body and providing deep pressure until my errant soul is reabsorbed into my flesh. Also, a hug would be nice.” (x)----When it came to times of stress, Dante’s enhanced senses meant he caught the signs immediately, sometimes even before you did.





	Also, a hug would be nice

**Author's Note:**

> It was a terrible week, and I was craving cuddles like this. (Is there any other word for being pinned to your bed by a warm, crushing weight?) I was writing for my V fic, so Dante came to mind. May it bring you some level of comfort, as it did me.

When it came to times of stress, Dante’s enhanced senses meant he caught the signs immediately, sometimes even before you did. After all, wasn’t prey under threat just a different kind of stress?

It was your third circuit back from the kitchen to his desk that caught his attention. He kept the magazine he was reading in front of his face, tracking your movement from the corner of his eye. A flick of his gaze as you moved past gave him a glimpse of your lips pressed together and your eyes glazed over. You muttered something under your breath. He didn’t miss the slightest of trembles in your fingers, as you tapped the papers on his desk before remembering something, and whirling back into the kitchen. 

You were easily distracted on the best of days. On the days things of equal urgency piled up, your attention span was ripped to pieces.

You slipped out of the kitchen, furrow deep in your brow. Dante didn’t think you realized it, but on days like this, your breathing changed as well. They were shorter, shallower than a regular human’s. The tension seeping unnoticed into your shoulders didn’t help. 

It never escalated to full on hyperventilation, when he was around. You never told him if you’ve experienced such a thing in the past.

Dante tossed his magazine aside and stretched, groaning. You ignored him, too focused on the papers on his desk. You hadn’t even bothered to sit, shuffling through papers while you tapped your foot against the floor.

Decades of experience let Dante approach you without a sound. You were preoccupied enough that you didn’t notice the shadow looming over you until it was too late. Your only warning was his arms circling around your waist, before he threw you over his shoulder.

“Dante!” you shrieked, flailing. The paper in your hand drifted in a slow, sad spiral to the ground. “What’re you—put me down! I have things to do!”

“Nope,” Dante said cheerily, making sure to pop the ‘p’ just to be extra obnoxious. He started up the stairs, every step rocking you from side to side.

“But—the grocery list! The accounting! My report for work—" You squeaked as he turned you upright again, only for your butt to bounce against his mattress.

“Lucky for you, you’ve got me,” Dante said, kicking off his boots. “Your schedule’s been cleared for the next hour.” Smirk firmly in place, he followed you into the bed. He coaxed you to lie down by virtue of his impossible weight pinning you in place. You grunted at the impact. 

“But Dante—" You tried to wriggle out from under him. He was only pinning your torso with his, after all. Your legs were free to move. A pinch on your thigh made you yelp.

“Rest time. You can get back to all that stuff later,” he mumbled, voice muffled by the pillow.

You huffed in exasperation and went limp. At first you were jittery, adjusting your legs, shifting your butt, trying to get comfortable. But the ever-present heat radiating from Dante, and the soothing feeling of your body being pinned to one place was impossible to resist. Reluctantly, you began to relax.

You raised one hand and curled your fingers into his back. The familiar leather of his jacket was comforting under your fingertips.

You’d asked him once before to cover you in his weight, on another day when it felt like the world wouldn’t stop spinning and your thoughts were flying out of your control. That he would do it at his own initiative was… endearing. He’d been courting you for a while, making flippant, flirty jokes and doing small favors. At this rate, he might get you yet, you reflected drily.

You let yourself sink into the bed, the tight muscles you hadn’t noticed loosening one by one. Your breathing slowed, almost matching itself to Dante’s, but not quite. Your hand rubbed absent circles on his back.

It was nice.

Still, it wasn’t enough. A few minutes in you found yourself rehearsing your resignation in your head once more. Feeling you start to tense again, Dante turned his head. “I can hear your gears grinding from here,” he teased.

“This isn’t enough to keep my attention,” you retorted, ignoring the way his breath fanned over your neck. That only made him smirk wider.

“Want me to distract you?” He rested his cheek on your shoulder. Now his breath puffed against your chin. It also forced you to tilt your head to keep eye contact, bringing your lips dangerously close to his.

You glared at him as best as you could from that angle. The tingling under your skin mixing with the numbness from your anxiety only made you ill at ease. “Not in the mood.” 

He sighed in disappointment, but moved his face away. “Well then, how else may I be of service?”

You smoothed your hand over his back, relenting. While his tone was mocking, you knew the question was sincere. Dante was the flirtatious ass others had warned you he’d be. But it was his gentle, considerate side that was making it harder and harder for you to resist his advances.

“How’s Nero?” you asked, off the top of your head.

Dante’s face brightened. He rolled onto his side, pulling you with him. It took a bit of poking and wriggling before you figured out he wanted your back to him. Once you’d positioned yourself, you felt his weight settle on your back and side again, thanks to the thick arm he’d thrown over you. Somehow, he felt heavier, his weight more effective. You couldn’t stop the groan that slipped out of your mouth as you sank into the mattress. You were delightfully, comfortably squished.

Dante froze. You stiffened at his reaction. Would he take it the wrong way? Push even after you told him no? Your mind said no—he’d always backed off before—but fear whispered its doubts.

“You doing alright there?”

You struggled to ignore the touch of hoarseness in his voice. “This is good,” you replied, still wary. He shifted, leaning even more of his weight on you. You sighed, eyes fluttering closed. You noticed he didn’t move his hips closer, but didn’t comment.

“Where were we? Oh yeah, Nero!” The more Dante talked, the closer to normal his voice became. Slowly, you began to relax again, sinking into Dante’s warmth. Sometimes he’d raise the arm around you to gesticulate. But his weight remained an ever-present comfort. You felt safe, secure. And you were happy because of his kindness and consideration.

From Nero, he moved on to Lady, to Trish, to his latest job. Apparently, there had been an ice cream joint there, but no strawberry sundae. It had ruined his mood the rest of the trip home. His low baritone vibrated soothingly against your back.

“What do you know?” he said at last. You could almost see his smug grin, just from his tone. “The sun has set. Time sure flies, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, a soft smile on your face. You’d noticed, actually. The things you needed to do had never been far from your mind. But Dante’s weight was soothing, his stories hilarious and interesting, and the obvious care he took for your sake heart-meltingly endearing. You turned in his arms, and decided to reward him a little for his efforts.

You kissed his cheek as best as you could reach it, ending up planting one over the corner of his lips. Oops. Ah well. 

“Thank you,” you said, and started wriggling out of his grip in the moment he lay stunned at your move. 

“Hey—no, wait!” He scrambled out of bed to chase you. You paused at the stairs, grinning up at him. An answering smile spread across his face. “Does that mean my manly charms are finally taking effect?” He leaned against the balustrade. You knew full well that he did it to make his jacket creak against his biceps.

You shook your head. Your smile refused to go away. You stepped off the stairs, throwing up a, “Maybe!” over your shoulder.

His crow of victory followed you into the kitchen.


End file.
